


at least it was here

by popoyoy11



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: I made them all live together in a dorm, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popoyoy11/pseuds/popoyoy11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not the right time, and not the right place. They could discuss it in the morning, or Seungri could not ask at all. It’s not appropriate, it’s not supposed to be asked. But it’s been gnawing at the back of his mind for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	at least it was here

**Author's Note:**

> Set just before their 2012 Still Alive comeback. Just something I wrote from the top of my head. Also available on AFF under the title Next To Me (I messed with this one a little bit before I posted it). Enjoy!

“Hyung?” Seungri whispers, his sleepy eyes gaze into the blackness of the living room. He puts a hand over his mouth, yawning, and feels the wall of the hallway, looking for the light switch.

“Yeah, maknae?” Jiyong answers, somewhere from that darkness, voice hoarse.

Giving up on finding the light switch, Seungri sighs and carefully threads his way through the mess of a room, rubbing his eyes. The last time he saw this room, Daesung and Big Seunghyun had just held a console competition, which means games and CDs and controllers were strewn around recklessly. His right foot falls on something round and flat and it makes a cracking sound, Seungri curses, damn, he’d have to hide the broken pieces later. He stretches his arms in the dark, blindly looking for an object to use as guidance, until his knees meet soft, worn velvet of an armchair and he loses balance, falling horizontally, face forward onto the couch. He lands directly on top of limbs and pointy chin and wide chest.

Jiyong groans, “What the hell Ri?” he asks, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Whoops! Sorry hyung!” Seungri scrambles to get off the couch but a pair of arms pulls him towards the owner.

He stills.

Jiyong shifts to the side to make room for an extra person, and Seungri fills the gap between his body and the couch, he wraps his arms around the younger. Seungri glances up; it’s nothing near pitch black in the room. Seoul is an active city, even at night, and some of the outside light filters in from the windows. He could see the faint outline of Jiyong’s face, his nose, his eyes, his lips. Seungri hears rather than feels the minute sigh that Jiyong emanates and watches as he closes his eyes.

Seungri doesn’t ask why he’s not in his room, Jiyong smells like cigars and cramped up studios and Seungri likes it, it smells like permanence.

If Seungri didn’t know him at all, he would think Jiyong is asleep, but he isn’t, Jiyong is rarely asleep.

“What were you doing out so late?” Seungri asks.

Jiyong grunts, “Nothing,”

Of course he wouldn’t tell Seungri, but still—

“Were you in the studio?” –Seungri means victory, and he doesn’t give up.

There is no reply, he takes it as a yes.

Seungri stares at Jiyong’s face through the darkness, his chest rising up and down in a steady rhythm, his breath is warm on Seungri’s face.

“We’re really going to have a comeback?”  

It’s not the right time, and not the right place. They could discuss it in the morning, or Seungri could not ask at all. It’s not appropriate, it’s not supposed to be asked. But it’s been gnawing at the back of his mind for a while.

For too long.

It’s a question asked out of that dark, deep, secret place in Seungri’s heart, where he keeps all his insecurities and fears and anger. Where he holds them at bay, pushes them back if they threaten to spill out. But right now they seep in Seungri’s voice, lacing themselves comfortably around the words and letters, Jiyong must’ve noticed, because he opens his eyes to stare at Seungri, his body goes rigid and his hands twitch, Seungri averts his gaze from Jiyong’s face.

Jiyong doesn’t answer, just keeps staring, and Seungri starts to fidget. There is silence between them, it’s filled with the fear in Seungri’s question and the horrible memories of the things that had happened that year, things that nearly cost Seungri BIGBANG.

Jiyong opens his mouth, and inhales,

“Yes,” He speaks up,

but his voice wavers.

“Yes, yes we are,” he repeats himself, clearer, this time—steadier—sounding like the surest person in the world. His tone and eyes scream to _trust me, Lee Seunghyun, trust me, I will make this work, I will bring us back, trust me._ And Seungri is wary of promises, but as always, he can’t help but lose himself in Jiyong’s words.

He is silent again, and even in the dark he can feel Jiyong’s gaze burning him, reading him. He closes his eyes.

“Okay,” he breathes out.

Seungri doesn’t know what will happen in the future, the uncertainty doesn’t disappear; it’s still there, clawing at him. But he thinks that if anybody’s words are to be trusted, it’s Jiyong’s. He’s never failed him. Not even with the things he’s done, in Seungri’s eyes, he has never failed him.

“Okay,” Seungri whispers, and then it’s quiet again.

It’s warm here, between Jiyong’s body and the couch. It’s warm and safe. A memory popped into his mind without permission, so vivid that it might have only happened yesterday. It was in the middle of the Lies promotion, everything seemed so bright, he had felt so invincible, finally all his hard work—all of their hard work—had paid off. The song was a hit, Jiyong was happy, he was happy. They’d done this very same thing, on the couch of the old dorm, too tired after a full day’s schedule to move into their shared bedroom. Jiyong had pulled him onto the battered old thing and had declared that they were sleeping there instead, Seungri had laughed, they both had, those days had been filled with laughter, only laughter.

Then Jiyong had stilled, and asked him, “Do you trust me, maknae?” with eyes that burn. Seungri hadn’t thought anything of the question, of course he trusted Jiyong, still does, he’s Leader, he was Seungri’s Leader.

With a cheeky grin, he had replied, “With the world, hyung,” and couldn’t have helped the giggle that had escaped him afterwards. Jiyong had smiled, then, the most beautiful smile Seungri had seen yet, and they’d fallen asleep right there and then, limbs tangled together on the too small couch. Seungri had felt content. Satisfied.

At the present moment, Seungri feels nothing that resembles the fireworks in his chest four years ago. It all went away with the things that happened, buried under layers and layers of worry and fear and frustration. But the steady rise and fall of Jiyong’s chest, the fact that it’s currently 2 AM in the morning, is a reminder that Jiyong, that all of them, are rebuilding the world they’ve lost.

“Hyung,” he murmurs, mind already muddled with drowsiness, “You know that I trust you, right?”

There’s a beat, a pause, before Jiyong says anthing.

“With the world,” he states.

Seungri yawns, and grins sleepily. “With the world,” Seungri repeats, softer, and shuts his eyes.

The week had been relentless to him, with all the rehearsals and the production of the album, rest was a luxury. He can feel sleep slowly claiming his consciousness. But before he drifts away into blissful slumber, he thought he felt something warm on the top of his head, and a gentle voice saying

_thank you, I’ll do my best_

that night Seungri falls asleep with a smile on his face.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are very much loved and appreciated. Hit me up on tumblr: fullmetal-ji.tumblr.com


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